Assumptions

What do you seek? Why are there

tears, gliding down your cheeks when

comfort is near. What is it you need?

A powerless man will run over

all before he admits he has lost control,

so he seeks, for what? He claims,

he needs a little more, satisfaction he can't

confront when his mind is shattered. Maybe

he seeks to calm the chaos lurking beneath

but he strikes in anger when the hand

attempting to calm him, belongs not to him.

Oh, compose your soul, I am but

making assumptions, an attempt to recognize

what it is that makes you blind to

your anger. This rage, in its purest form

burns bridges, such hate leaves a trail...

and to my amaze, I find specks of grace,

compassion, truth, in this hatred you left..

So I ask you again, what is it you seek?

You preach louder than the alarming sirens pouring through my window,

your words stinging, inspiring, igniting, reviving an old wound

as I try to comprehend, your rage, it

needs a shelter. Yet, it is pushed down,

making home where it does not belong,

your heart may turn bitter, if this rage

someday takes over.

Oh, compose your soul dear friend,

I am but making assumptions

to answer the unanswered.

Who am I to try to fit you in a box

of ready made disorders, I make no claims

about you, only assumptions...